


Thirteenth Christmas

by tatooedlaura



Series: Christmas [14]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: She leaned in the door of his office, surveyed the messy organization with a sigh then let her gaze fall on the back of his head, the only thing she could see over the top of the beat up black office chair, “I was thinking about doing the decorations. Want to come out and help or are you in the middle of something?”





	

She leaned in the door of his office, surveyed the messy organization with a sigh then let her gaze fall on the back of his head, the only thing she could see over the top of the beat up black office chair, “I was thinking about doing the decorations. Want to come out and help or are you in the middle of something?”

His response was a pointer finger in the air, indicating ‘hang on, just a second’ so she waited, patiently drifting her eyes across the walls, checking to see if he had anything new hanging there that hadn’t been two days previous. It was always a hit or miss with him these days. Some afternoons, he’d go on a bender of sorts, printing, cutting, trimming, arranging, pinning, taping, tossing articles, theories, blurry images or crisp text while others, he’d simply stare at the wall or out the window, caught in his own mind, debating the possibility of this idea or that scrap of hope while only moving when Scully coaxed him, dragged him to the kitchen to help with dinner or to talk about the leaking pipe in the basement he’d need to fix the next day.

He popped out of his reveries quickly, however, so she wasn’t so much worried as mildly concerned that maybe solitary confinement was beginning to tarnish his freedom from hiding.

It was the days she found him maniacally cleaning the house or scrubbing all the dishes or rearranging the pictures on the walls that made her most questioning. She was used to the quiet introvert, the frantic investigator, the cuddly bear, the angry, the righteous, the believer but she was never quite on equal footing with the obsessive-compulsive. It didn’t happen too often so she let him be, allowing his psyche to have its day, knowing he was never more than 24 hours from his next Mulder.

It took more than a second before he spun in his chair, giving her a serious look, wrapped box in his hand, “you are very lucky I had my back turned or you would have seen your ornament.”

The relief that flooded her was unsettling. Today’s Mulder was her Mulder, his radiant smile, his playful eyes dancing in her direction, his adoration for her very existence coming off him in waves and ignoring the unsettled, she chose the happy, slipping inside the room to give him a kiss, arms thrown around his neck in an un-Agent Scully like manner but a ScullylovesMulder ecstatic gesture, “you got me an ornament?! How completely and utterly unexpected!”

“Shut it with the mocking, woman or I’ll just return it or hell, maybe I’ll give it to Tom instead.”

“I really need to worry about you and our delivery people, don’t I?”

“Just Ed. He’s got that look of ‘I’ll bring you flowers and chocolate every Saturday night’ and sometimes, I think I might be hungry.”

She scooted his gift-holding hand aside to cozy up on his knee, arms around Mulder’s neck, “but I’ve got that lovely little tattoo you like to lick and freckles in the shapes of constellations which you enjoy playing connect the dots with. Pretty sure Ed can’t beat that.”

Hand already tracing the slightly raised skin of the aforementioned tattoo, “not from what I’ve seen.”

Kissing the end of his nose, she took her gift, then moved to stand, “come on. Let’s get this place decorated, then I’ll open my gift and I have it on good authority that you’ll probably get one, too.”

“Can I be slightly vulgar right now and tell you where you keep your best gifts?”

“No. Now come on.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It took a little longer than usual to deck out the house. Things had to be centered more and angled better and arranged differently. Symetricality had never been a real concern for Mulder but today, in a most casual and nonchalant way, he hung things precisely, carefully, in a way that Scully didn’t even notice until they were finished and sitting on the couch, surveying their handiwork. Looking over the top of her mug of hot chocolate, complete with alien head marshmallows Mulder had found online, she saw it; the distance between stocking that she probably could have measure with a ruler, landing them perfect distance from either end of the mantle and from each other, the garland swinging merrily at the exact middle of the same mantle.

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you measure the stocking distances when I wasn’t looking?”

“What do you think I am? Some weird freak of nature grandma?” He said it with such amusement that a semi-embarrassed shrug moved her world before she settled into relaxed and he commented again, “I will say, though, that I have gotten a lot better at spacing crap out. Have you seen the top of my apple pie? Total perfection in criss-crossed pastry.”

Bumping shoulders with him after putting her mug down, she internally shook herself free of niggling feelings and smiled at him, “so, when can I open my present?”

“Now.” Picking it up from the table, he handed it to her, “just don’t drop it.”

“Not planning on it.” Once again, she marveled at her bauble once she got to it, “oh my God, Mulder, it’s beautiful!” Cradled on her palm was a model of the galaxy, Sun, planets, moon, all on separate rings, all spinning independently of one another at the slightest tilt of her hand. “Where did you find it?”

“Through the magic of the interwebs.”

Holding it up by its delicate string, watching the wire thin rings wobble and glide on their infinite turn, “it’s too beautiful to put in the box after Christmas. I think I’d like to maybe hang it on the headboard, in that little carved opening at the top, for the rest of the year, know exactly my place in the universe every morning, never have to doubt where I fit in.”

Suddenly catching her lips with his, “you have a poet in there somewhere.”

“I have you for my poetry, Mulder. You gave me a galaxy for Christmas when all I got you was a Mr. Potato Head ornament.” It took her a moment or three but her free hand shot up to cover her mouth, embarrassed red running rampant over her cream, pale skin, “oh, shit, I didn’t give you your gift yet, did I?”

His grin lit up the room as he shook his head, “um, no, you haven’t but I promise to act surprised.”

Leaning her head into his arm, she groaned, “I am such an idiot.”

Mulder kissed the crown of her head, “but you’re my idiot.”

Scully chuckled as well, “let me go get it.”

By the time she returned a minute later, he had disappeared into his office, frantically typing something on his computer and once she heard the telltale squeak of his chair as he shifted to get comfortable, she just shook her head, putting his wrapped box on the coffee table and hanging her ornament, watching it spin for several minutes before retreating to the kitchen to make them some form of dinner.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, however, she gave up and made herself a plate, eating it settled on the couch, watching ‘Jeopardy’. The final question category had just been announced when he walked sheepishly back into the living room, heading straight for her, “sorry. I got an alert while you were upstairs then I lost track of time.”

Getting used to it, she gave him a soft smile, “dinner’s on the stove. You can open your gift when you get back.”

“Thanks, I’m starving.” Gathering his food, he dropped next to her, set his plate on the coffee table and picking up his gift, “I wonder what’s in here?”

With a grumbling groan, she swatting his thigh playfully, “smart ass.”

“Indeed.”

He guffawed and admired and made such a big deal about his wonderful ornament and his beautiful girl that she finally had to stop him, mentioning something about a diabetic coma and nausea. Hanging Mr. Potato Head beside her galaxy on the tree, he finally began eating, “so, the alert I got was about some mysterious attacks in northern Georgia and most think it’s a man on a rampage but I, and a few other …”

Scully held up her hand to stop him, “please, don’t, Mulder. Not during dinner, such that it is.”

His excitement deflated somewhat and he scooped another mouthful before, “sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay.” Already done with her food, she curled her legs under her, snuggling into his side, hand sliding over his knee, “I just … I don’t want that in my head right now. It’s Christmas and it’s supposed to be happy and cozy and warm and I don’t … I just don’t want the darkness of monsters and killers invading.” Looking up at him, pleading in her eyes, “I just want my Mulder and our house and our Christmas.”

Kissing all the parts he could reach, “I know. I just want my Scully and our house and our Christmas, too.” Mulder rested his head atop of hers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
